The Snow Wolf's Mate

Home Is Chosen, Not Given:

[POV: Aria]

I don’t know how I kept my hands still.

Not when Dayana sat across from me, spinning lies with a smile so sweet it made my stomach twist.

She dabbed her mouth delicately with a napkin, like this was just another pleasant dinner—like she wasn’t painting me as a delusional child with every soft, measured word.

“Oh, Aria was always a little… sensitive,” she said with a light laugh, tilting her head toward Hayden. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But she used to cry for the smallest things—attention, mostly. You know how it is with older siblings. She always wanted to be the center of everything.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I remember,” she went on, glancing at Cole with that same sickening smile, “how she’d make up stories. About me. About our parents. About how she wasn’t treated fairly. She just didn’t understand structure, or discipline. Our family only ever tried to help her.”

Help me?

I felt my hands shaking beneath the table. My nails dug into my thighs through the fabric of my tunic, trying to ground myself, trying not to leap across the room and silence her with the truth.

The real truth.

How she’d held my head underwater until I stopped thrashing. How she’d burned my favorite journal and laughed while I cried.

How she whispered to Cole when we were young, feeding him poison while I watched, helpless, wondering why I was never enough.

But I didn’t speak. Because I didn’t need to. Hayden’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Aria has told me her side,” he said coldly, leaning back in his chair. “And considering the physical and emotional condition she was in when she arrived at my borders—starved, exhausted, and one inch from a panic attack—I find it easy to believe her.”

Dayana’s smile wavered for just a moment.

Father’s brow twitched. Mother sipped her wine, trying to hide the tight purse of her lips.

I stared at Hayden, something tight in my chest unraveling with every word he spoke.

“She didn’t arrive here asking for pity,” he went on. “She earned her place. Earned her title. No one handed anything to her.”

His eyes moved back to Dayana, hard as obsidian.

“So if you’re here to spin old stories and rewrite her life to make yourselves feel better, don’t bother. I won’t be swayed.”

I swallowed hard, my throat thick.

For a moment, the world went quiet. Just the sound of firewood cracking in the hearth and the cold hum of tension in the air.

And then—Hayden turned to me.

“In the eyes of Crimson Fang,” he said, voice steady and unwavering, “you are one of us. Fully. Completely. This is your pack now, Aria. And you’ve earned that, too.”

My breath caught.

Even through the storm of nerves and Dayana’s lies, something in those words lit a fragile warmth inside me.

I didn’t just belong here. I wasn’t just tolerated.

I was wanted. I was home.

Across the table, I saw Dayana’s eyes flash. Her jaw tightened, her mask starting to slip, just slightly. She picked up her wineglass again, fingers trembling before she caught herself.

Hellfire danced behind her pupils, and I knew it killed her to hear that.

Hayden stood.

“Well,” he said with a trace of sarcasm curling in his voice, “thank you for your… overwhelming concern for Aria’s well-being. It’s clear how deeply and sincerely you all care.”

Mother’s mouth opened, but he didn’t give her time to respond.

“As per the agreement in correspondence with Alpha Julius,” he added, his tone sharpening again, “we will address formal matters between our packs tomorrow in private council. You are free to remain as guests until your departure—but I expect all of you to conduct yourselves with the respect this pack deserves.”

He looked directly at Father. “And I trust you understand what will happen if you don’t.”

A flicker of something passed behind Father’s eyes. Not fear, exactly. But respect, maybe. Or recognition. That Hayden wasn’t a man who bluffed.

“We understand,” he said with a tight nod.

“Good.” With that, Hayden turned and extended a hand toward me.

I hesitated. Just a heartbeat. But then I stood and took it.

His fingers were warm around mine, steady and grounding, and as we left the room, I didn’t look back.

I didn’t need to.

Let Dayana stew in the ashes of her performance. Let her choke on the lies she’d tried to force down my throat for years.

Because this time, I wasn’t the one shrinking beneath her shadow.